


Unspeakable

by bloodandpepper



Series: new paths to eden [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foreshadowing, M/M, Malik POV, Novice Altaïr, Porn with Feelings, blackmailing, drabble to fight lockdown blues, happy ending ahoi, novice Malik, now have some angst, this was supposed to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29043621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandpepper/pseuds/bloodandpepper
Summary: None of them were able to kiss reality away, and for all the deep trust and love Malik had for his lover, there was a storm brewing on the horizon, unseen, yet there, and he had the distinctive feeling that it would be able to pull them all in with a gravity beyond their power. It would grow and grow to be another Unspeakable between them, but right now, it seemed of little consequence, as long as he held tightly to his lover.
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Series: new paths to eden [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154309
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Unspeakable

It weren't his steps that gave him way. No, he always treated on silent soles, each step measured and well-balanced.

Malik heard his breath, recognized the beat of the other’s heart that pumped in rhythm akin to his own. It shouldn’t be humanly possible to notice such things, yet he did, so it came to no surprise when calloused fingers graced over the back of his neck and pulled down the collar. Warm breath ghosted across his exposed skin, and Malik was able to feel the kiss long before it was brushed onto his skin. The grip to his quill tightened, and he was mindful enough to put a piece of paper in between the tome’s pages before he closed it. Stubble scratched over each vertebra, then a tongue followed until the fabric denied further access.

‘I hope you are well aware that we are in the middle of the library,’ Malik heard himself object half-heartedly and more out of propriety reasons than anything else. He had to admit that the thrill of being caught added to the tension that already spread through every muscle of his body, but their _thing_ , their _Unspeakable_ had to stay exactly that: hidden – sure, cherished beyond words, yet a well-guarded secret. The whole issue centered more around the fact that if this escalated any further, sooner or later all of Masyaf was about to know. It didn’t hold back his lover though and one part of him got as easily excited as the other part got annoyed.

‘Altaïr. Stop that,’ he hissed, but his voice had already gained a breathlessness that took off the bite of his order. He could feel the other’s smile against the side of his neck as he slid down to crouch next to his chair in order to look up at him with those wild, dark eyes that promised pleasure. Malik had to swallow dry, for he knew exactly was about to happen and damned his body for humming in silent anticipation.

For all the pride and dignity his lover possessed and paraded on a daily basis, it always came as a thrill how readily he was able to shake off that decorum when it came to sex. In all honesty, it should’ve been laughable how Al Mualim’s favored novice left all that behind in order to provide him with a blow job he wasn’t aware he needed, though Malik didn’t laugh just once, instead he tried to muffle his groans and moans, as the other set to work with clever fingers and an even smarter tongue.

The Prophet be praised, it was already late evening and the master-library lay deserted, but Malik heard his breath hitch despite his best intentions when his lover swallowed him down to the root in one, smooth move. Altaïr was a fast learner, and despite their awkward fumbling in the beginning they both slipped into an easy routine with way too many twists and turns and new possibilities. It escaped his notice though, when exactly the other had developed the ability to fit all of his manhood into his mouth and throat, but, right now, it was to Malik’s utter advantage.

Maybe it should have been wise not only to put away the book, but to set aside his quill, too, because the small reed was already splintering in his hold when a wave of pleasure rushed through him. He was close and it should’ve been embarrassing how fast he’d gotten there, but, between his legs, Altaïr seemed to enjoy their little encounter quite as much as he did – if the other’s vigor to the task at hand was any indication.

Malik’s hands shook as his composure began to fray and the poor quill met its early demise when his orgasm hit him hard. Biting into his left hand muffled his shaky moan-turned-gasp a bit, though the sound reverberated through the high hall unnaturally loud, and Malik cursed under his breath as he slowly came down from his high.

Altaïr was licking a stray drop of semen off the corner of his mouth once he resurfaced from his hiding spot to perch on the desk’s edge in fluid nonchalance, and the urge to strangle and kiss that insufferable bastard grew tenfold.

In the end, Malik did neither strangle his lover to death nor did he kiss him senseless. He settled for what he knew best: sardonic remarks that served to reinstall their outward routine.

‘You owe me a new quill, Altaïr. A fine one. The high-quality reed-quill the scholar’s use.’

A smile pulled at the scar that crossed the full lips and Malik tried not to be smitten by the sheer beauty that was the other man.

‘Deal,’ he heard him say, as Malik opened his tome again in order to continue reading where their tryst interrupted his studies beforehand.

‘What are you reading that it proves to be more interesting than my presence?’ Was there actually hurt in the timbre of Altaïr’s voice?

‘Alexandria and its infrastructure. How it was planned and executed.’

‘I must be horribly dull then.’

Malik had to smirk. ‘You are horribly annoying.’

‘Rumor has it, that you enjoyed my annoyance being directed towards your cock quite much just very recently.’

‘Not. So. Loud.’

Altaïr’s face twisted in rage as he jumped off the desk to fold his arms in front of his chest in defiance pinning him in place with a hard stare, shoulders squared and body gone rigid.

Malik picked up the ante despite the rational part of his mind screaming at him not to. ‘Why are you really here, Altaïr…’

He watched the other bristle at the question, yet he refused to give in just an inch. When Malik wasn’t expecting an answer anymore and began to turn towards his tome, the other spoke up again, voice strangely under strain.

‘You’ve grown…distant recently. And now Al Mualim summons me, to talk and talk without making sense, until, finally, he finishes with the remark, that I have to look after you, because you are, I quote, ‘angry with him’.’

The tome snapped shut with a cloud of ancient dust, and, indeed, Malik was able to feel his anger rise, boiling in his blood like a scalding iron to bare skin. ‘Then maybe the Grandmaster should’ve summoned me instead. I should have been able to enlighten him.’

Opening his stance in surprise, Altaïr’s arms fell to his sides again, gesturing with both hands wildly. ‘Then why are you angry at him?’

Malik’s chair screeched and scratched across the sandstone tiles before it tumbled over, while he made a grab for his lover’s left hand.

The thin gauze of the bandage still covered what remained left of his ring finger, and Malik held to it more gingerly than his initial move might’ve suggested. ‘He asks so much of you without giving you anything in return,’ he spat, his rage breaking like a dam, flowing out of him unchecked.

‘…that’s the price to be payed for progress…,’ the other stammered, quite obviously surprised by the outburst.

‘Then why are _you_ the one to pay for that?! Why not him?’

‘You know why. It’s because I’m an assass-‘

‘SO AM I. But it’s you, who has to undergo such a trial. It’s you who’s altered to be a tool for Mualim’s liking bit by agonizing bit!’ Malik was surprised by his own bitterness that laced his outburst with vitriol. For all that had already been said, there was one, more thing to utter though and it burned on his tongue like a hot coal. ‘Every time you return from training with him, I recognize you less and less. You’ve changed, Altaïr.’

The following pause weighed down heavily on both of them. ‘He’s turning you into something you are not. And _he_ surely won’t have to pay the price for that, if push comes to shove.’

Altaïr’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as if in search for words, until he retracted his maimed hand from his hold, lowering his gaze. ‘He knows, Malik.’

Icy tendrils raked down his back, rendering him immobile. There was no mistaking what Altaïr was talking about; Malik had the urge to spell it out aloud, for the entire world to hear, for it felt as if that specter that had always been looming above them would be petrified by uttering its name aloud. ‘Al Mualim knows about us.’

The following nod was tiny, but Malik noticed it nonetheless. If his initial rage had been bad, this proved to be so much worse. ‘And he’s using his knowledge to usher you into his concepts of improving the Order, sending you out on missions no other would return from. He’s blackmailing you.’

‘Malik, listen.’ Taking a step in his direction, he grabbed his hand in a mirrored version of the very scene from mere moments before. ‘I can overcome it all. I know I can, I have the power, the skill to do so, I know for sure. All I ask for is your trust and support, so don’t keep your distance like you’ve done recently. And I tell you one, more thing: A part of me is actually glad that the Grandmaster knows. I don’t have to hide us anymore.’ Another step and Altaïr was close enough to feel his body heat, leaning in for a kiss that was more hesitant and softer than anything they’d shared in a long time.

None of them were able to kiss reality away, and for all the deep trust and love Malik had for his lover, there was a storm brewing on the horizon, unseen, yet there, and he had the distinctive feeling that it would be able to pull them all in with a gravity beyond their power. It would grow and grow to be another Unspeakable between them, but right now, it seemed of little consequence, as long as he held tightly to his lover.

Mouthing over the long scar that crossed his lips, Malik spoke into the small space between them. ‘Never forget that you are my soul, Altaïr, never forget. Where ever you wander, whoever you may become, take a moment and remember, will you?’

His smile was as bright as the star that was his namesake when Altaïr finally answered.

‘I will, my heart, I will.’

*

In the end, the storm came and swiped them all up, chewed them down and spit them out, and nothing was as it had been before. The Unspeakable between them stood solid as Mount Ararat and just as icy.

For the longest time, Malik searched for the piece of his soul that went missing, his anger and bitterness a constant companion. Only once he was able to accept the chasm in his chest as the very place that could also serve as the room made for forgiveness, did his soul return to him bit by bit. His ‘I forgave you’ had been the first step, many others were to follow.

As for Altaïr: He did as he was asked, and remembered. He remembered so much that his heart went missing over it. So he changed, and changed again, changed the world around him and spoke the Unspeakable that made the mountain first shake and then crumble.

‘I still love you,’ he said, only this time, it had to be Malik who spoke the words Altaïr had voiced in what felt like ages ago.

‘Yes, I remember, Altaïr. I remember.’

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself cry writing this story, so I had to add the little epilogue to make my little-girl-self happy again. Hopefully, this will work for you, too, dear reader.  
> Please leave some feedback, it will make my day.
> 
> [uhm, hello](http://blood-and-pepper.tumblr.com/)


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